


No More Lies

by acme146



Series: Fading Scars [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant After Deathly Hallows, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Gen, Learning to read, Mention of Canon Violence, Next Generation, Umbridge Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acme146/pseuds/acme146
Summary: James Sirius Potter is learning how to read, and he notices an old wound.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with."  
> -Harry Crews

                Harry was reading James _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ \- not Hermione’s special copy, a newer one- when it happened.

                James was four and had heard these stories many times, so Harry almost didn’t notice when his son said the next words before he read them.

                He looked down at his son, delighted. “Good job, James!” he praised him. He glanced towards the stairs. Ginny was upstairs settling Albus down for a nap. He wondered if he should call his wife down to share this moment, but decided against it. After all, James could just be parroting the oft-repeated story.

                Frowning slightly, he flipped to _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart._ Ginny had forbidden him from reading that particular story to the children until they were at least six, but there was no harm in the title…

                “James,” he said gently, “do you want to read the first bit of that for Daddy?”

                The tiny boy frowned in concentration. “War-lock’s Har –ray Heart.”

                The words came out slowly and with a fair amount of effort, but Harry was delighted. “Well done, you!” he said. “Mummy’s going to be so proud of you, and so is Aunt Hermione.” His best friend had tried to restrain herself from buying her nieces and nephews _too_ many books, but now that James could read their house would probably fill with books quite quickly.

                James was smiling up at him and Harry set the book aside for a moment to give his son a proper cuddle. James didn’t complain; he snuggled into his father’s hold. He didn’t see why it was such a big deal, but it made Daddy happy and that was good. Daddy should always be happy. Looking for other things to read, his eyes fell on the big hand that was on his chest. He concentrated. “I…must…not…tell-”

                Harry stiffened. He moved his hand away, out of James’ field of vision. His son looked up at him in confusion. Harry closed his eyes, memories of being fifteen washing over him. He’d almost forgotten about those words…

                “Daddy?” James was confused. Daddy looked sad all of a sudden, like he did around Victoire’s birthday or when it was Halloween. He tapped his father’s chin, which was as high as he could reach. “Daddy!”

                Harry opened his eyes and looked down at his tiny son, who was beginning to look frightened. “It’s alright, Jamie,” he soothed. He stood up, the child in his arms. “Daddy was just surprised, that’s all.”

                James looked up at him, eyes so innocent that Harry’s heart broke. “James, you mustn’t read those words again,” he said firmly. “You’re not in trouble, but I don’t want you to look again, alright?” _I don’t want you to know about those scars,_ he thought fervently. _You don’t need to know._

                James looked a little uncertain, but he leaned back against Harry’ s chest.  “Why you sad, Daddy?” he asked.

                Harry cleared his throat. “I’m not sad, love,” he whispered. “It’s just something I don’t like to talk about.”

                “Can you fix it?” James asked. Daddy could fix anything, after all.

                “No, I can’t,” Harry said hoarsely. Then a thought struck him. “But I know someone who might be able to, actually.” He headed up the stairs and into the nursery. Albus was nodding off in Ginny’s arms. She looked up at him in surprise. “What is it?” she asked urgently. “Is it work?”

                Harry shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said, forcing a smile as he put James on the rug at Ginny’s feet. “I’ve just got to go to Hogwarts very quickly. I should be back soon.” He pleaded with her silently not to ask, and he was very grateful when she just nodded.

                “Try to be back for dinner, okay?”

                Harry nodded, leaned down and kissed her lightly, ruffled James’ hair-and headed downstairs. Grimacing as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder—he’d never liked this form of transport—he called clearly “Hogwarts Infirmary!”

                He saw about thirty different fireplaces before he recognized the overall whiteness that could only be the infirmary. Harry stepped out quickly and carefully. He had just enough time to realize that she might not be here- it was the middle of the summer, after all—when she came out of her office.

                Madam Pomfrey looked at him and threw up her hands. “Mister Potter, really?”

                He laughed despite the constricting feeling in his throat. “Don’t worry, Madam Pomfrey,” he said quickly. “I’m not really injured, I swear- I just need to ask you something…”

* * *

 

                “You should have come to me years ago,” Madam Pomfrey scolded when he finished.

                “I know,” Harry admitted. Why hadn’t he told anyone, again? His fifth year at Hogwarts, he was discovering, had blended into a blur of misery and anger, with occasional bright spots created by the D.A. meetings and Christmas, and even those were tarnished by regret. He could remember specifics; he hadn’t gone mad. He just didn’t want to.

                Madam Pomfrey sighed, examining his hand. “Why didn’t you go to St. Mungo’s, anyway?” she asked.

                Harry hadn’t thought about that. “I suppose it felt off, not spending at least some time a year in here,” he said instead, trying for a weak grin.

                Madam Pomfrey looked flattered even as she was annoyed. “Well,” she said briskly, “I don’t know if I can cure this entirely, but that scar can certainly be faded.”

                Harry’s heart lifted. “Really?”

                Madam Pomfrey nodded and waved her wand. A bottle full of yellow liquid Harry vaguely recognized came zooming towards them. Harry ducked but there was no need; the bottle landed on the desk next to them.

                “Essence of Murtlap,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “Soak your hand in it for thirty minutes every day. If you want it to move along more quickly-” she handed him a roll of bandage- “soak this and wrap your hand in it. Just put a dry one on top and you should be able to use your hand just fine. I believe it should be nearly gone by the end of the month.”

                “Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said gratefully. He looked at the woman who had healed so many of his injuries and felt a bit guilty for all the times he’d complained. “Thanks for everything.”

                Madam Pomfrey patted his non-scarred hand. “No thanks necessary,” she said gruffly. “I don’t want to see you in here again, Mr. Potter, do you understand?”

                “Yes Madam,” Harry said, giving her a cheeky salute as he stood.

* * *

 

                It was Ginny’s turn to read to the kids that night, so Harry occupied himself with bandaging his hand. The Murtlap felt as soothing as he remembered, although that worried him; he hadn’t noticed any pain from this particular wound in years. Once he finished putting the dry one on top, he wandered over to James’ room- Albus was fast asleep in the nursery already.

                Ginny looked up and smiled as he came in. He would talk to her later, he promised himself; he owed her that much. For now, his attention was more focused on James, who was drifting off to sleep in his mother’s arms but still called sleepily, “Daddy…”

                Ginny kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, my darling,” she whispered. She gently let go of her son and got off the bed, putting the story book back on the shelf. Harry was somewhat relieved to see that it was _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ rather than _Beedle the Bard_. She left the room quietly.

                Harry crossed the room and sat down on the bed. James had just recently begun sleeping in a ‘big boy bed’, and looked very small against the large pillow. He also looked rather serious.

                “Well, did you have a nice story time with Mummy?” Harry asked lightly, tucking his son in.

                James nodded. His eyes were fixed on Harry’s bandaged hand. “Mummy said you hurt, a long time ago.”

                That brought Harry up short. “Yes,” he said eventually, his vow to _never_ lie to his children ringing in his mind.

                James looked at him for a minute, then sat up, took Harry’s hand in both his own and gently kissed the bandaged area, the same way Harry and Ginny did when any of their children suffered any sort of injury. “All better now?” he asked anxiously.

                Harry’s eyes grew hot. He ignored the rumpling the bedclothes got as he pulled James into his arms, running his bandaged hand through his son’s hair. “Yes, Jamie,” he murmured. “All better now.”

                They stayed like that for several minutes, until Harry realized that James was nearly asleep in his arms. He carefully pulled the covers back and tucked his son in tenderly. He brushed the hair back from James’ forehead and kissed the scar-free area. “Goodnight, James,” he whispered. “I love you.”

                “Love you too, Daddy,” was the answering whisper.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Harry Potter series! This will be updated weekly (if all goes to plan), and will deal with many conversations like this, as the characters we all love heal the past by explaining it to their children. I have several already written, but feel free to send prompts. By next week there should be a second 'story' up that will be a worldbuilding centre of sorts, with some basic headcanons and some in-between stories set in this world.  
> I will be updating my other works here and there, but this will be the new main 'Wednesday' one.  
> Cheers,  
> Acme  
> P.S. And no, I have not read the Cursed Child. This pretends that doesn't exist.


End file.
